A Quick Retrospective as the Adventure Unfolds! Pallas and Mercury's Beginnings!
The Day the Music Died... We take up our story a week into the Goodman Pirates' journey. It's early morning, and our trio of intrepid sailors are waking up for breakfast. Mercury is cooking on the admittedly old stove, while Vincenzo tries sitting in one of the tiny chairs near the table. Well, it's tiny compared to him at any rate. Brünnhilde, meanwhile was finishing up her night vigil and weighing the anchor. She walked over to the starboard of the Oaldie, taking her green horn-weapon with her along with some valve oil. With both, she began to perform maintenance on her main weapon. A large THUMP was heard in the kitchen cabin, and Vincenzo walked out. "Couldn't sit down in the kitchen?" joked Brünnhilde. "Again." Vincenzo simply replied. "Never mind a new ship, we need new furniture... What are you doing?" "Maintaining Myntos." she answered, cleaning out her horn's spit valve. "Myntos?" asked a confused Vincenzo. "It's Valkyrie for "The Blast-Maker". Each of our horns are named this way. Svafa uses Nicros; "The Black Thunder", Sigrún uses Pyros; "The Flame Taunter", and our mother Freyja uses Plasmos; "The Fearless Leader". "Okay, but if you're maintaining this 'Myntos', why are you scrubbing it with that clear fluid?" inquired Vincenzo. "It's called valve oil, big fella." Brünnhilde explained. "Meant to clean up the pipes so I can use Myntos in a more precise manner. After all, you seriously expect this thing to be good regardless of condition?" "Fair enough." grunted Vincenzo, whom lumbered to the helm to make sure the boat stays on course. A half an hour later, a voice called from the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready! If you don't eat, it's not my fault!" As the fog that had settled around the boat began to lift, the duo of crewmates entered the kitchen. For the sake of time constraints, we'll spare you the eating process and skip to shortly afterwards, when they heard a pounding on the door. "Hmm, wonder who that is..." pondered Mercury as he walked away from the dishes he was washing. "Really?" Brünnhilde said sarcastically. "You can't tell from the fact that no one else is out there?!" "Relax, lovey." assured Mercury. "I got this." He unsheathed his clarinet sword and pressed himself against the left side of the wall, where the door wouldn't slam in his face. Sure enough, whoever it was barged in, revealing themselves to be bandits wielding guns...that promptly had their barrels cut in half. "What the-?" one bandit exclaimed. "Lemme make this clear, boys." Mercury said calmly, his sword readied for battle. "We're trying to digest our breakfast here, and aren't really in the mood for people trying to barge in uninvited. Unless you wanna sell something besides our deaths, get. OUT." "Oh, I wouldn't do that, if I were you, sir." warned a voice. From outside came a slimy voice, slithering like a boa constrictor sliding down a mangrove tree trunk. From outside seemed to be the leader of this intruder entourage; a man with a lance, a red cape, a musketeer's outfit, and wearing a golden owl mask. His hair was spiky, black and slicked back in a way that was as if he glued several crow feathers together, and pointed them towards his backside. "Oh, perfect, extra guests." Brünnhilde commented, rolling her eyes. She armed herself with Myntos as the man continued to prattle. "I am Philadelphia Delamancha," he began. "First mate of the dreaded Timepiece Pirates, and I commendeer this ship in the name of my captain, Otto Matro." "First off," Brünnhilde remarked. "Real smooth, addressing yourself like that. That's totally not gonna give you away to the Marines at all!" Philadelphia then realized what he had just proclaimed, and closed his mouth. "Shit!" he shouted. "Curse my lack of an inside voice!" "And your lack of an internal monologue..." scoffed Vincenzo. "Should I club them, Captain?" "Keep the option open, but let me speak with our loud-mouthed guest first." Mercury replied. "You just make sure his men don't do anything stupid." The two crewmates restrained Philadelphia's accomplices, and Mercury stepped out to confront him with his clarinet sword. "So, you think you can rain on this little parade of ours?" Mercury asked, aiming his sword at Philadelphia's throat. "En garde." He gave a quick smirk, and the two traded blows; sword vs. lance, slashing swiftly and with a constant "clang-clang-CLANG!". This in turn took Mercury back, back to a time before his high seas beginnings. Yes, in tried and true fashion, Mercury flashbacks to his childhood, during sword-fighting lessons with his father. The time was ten years ago, and in the backyard at dawn is where said fencing took place. At the time, Mercury was about 11 years old, roughly. "You're doing well," Mercury's father said. "But your grip's a bit looser than it should. Never hesitate to grip tightly, son! ...Wait, let me rephrase that." "Too late, dad. Thanks for that image in my head." Mercury said, rolling his eyes. "Regardless," his father said, working up a little bit of a sweat. "Let's take a break and get some iced tea from the fridge." The two walk in come back out ten minutes later on the front porch, watching a nearby brass band playing. "Beautiful, isn't it, son?" asked Mercury's dad. "Oh, yeah." Mercury replied. "The band's really in rare form today!" "Not that!" his dad clarified. "The sunrise!" "Oooooooh! Okay, that makes a bit more sense." Mercury said. "You know, there are those who say that there's something wonderful out there; beyond the Blues, beyond the Grand Line, beyond even the New World!" said his dad wistfully. "Really? What is it?" "I don't know," his father replied. "But I do know it's beyond the reach of any known map of today. You'd have to be as mad as Luffy to try and get there." With that bit of foreshadowing out of the way, Mercury heard a voice calling in the distance. "Hey, Merry!" the voice hollered. "You wanna come practice with the band?" Merry was Mercury's nickname when he was young, incidentally. "Coming, Pally!" Mercury called back. And with that, Mercury jumped from his chair and made his way to a young "Pally"; a.k.a. Pallas T. Kite (as if that wasn't obvious enough). To Be Continued... Category:One Piece: Peace of Mind Category:Post-Orlean Village Arc Category:Mercury Goodman Category:Vincenzo Baradelli Category:Valkyrie Brünnhilde Category:Sword Fight Category:Philadelphia Delamancha Category:Admittedly Misleading Title, Think of This as a Two-Parter Category:Tuning Up Saga